


Master Chef

by Itsquiettime



Series: Scribbles [3]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsquiettime/pseuds/Itsquiettime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark didn't mean to set the fire alarm off.  He didn't.  The batch of pancakes he was making just kind of.....caught fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Chef

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking for inspiration when I scribbled out this tiny thing. I hope you like it!

Mark didn't _mean_ to set the fire alarm off.  He didn't.  The batch of pancakes he was making just kind of.....caught fire.

The worst part?  This wasn't the first time this had happened.  Or the second.  The first was an unfortunate incident with a pan of muffins and the second, well, Mark would not try to make anything to take to his mother's house for Thanksgiving again.  

No, this was the THIRD TIME the fire department had to rush out to his apartment and everyone had to be evacuated in the middle of the night.  

Yes, this would be an excellent time to be abducted by aliens or for demons to emerge from the gates of hell to drag him into the fiery pit.

At this point, every man, woman, and pet had been standing outside for twenty minutes and they were all staring angrily at the loser who nearly burns the whole complex to the ground on a regular basis.

God, kill him now.

To top it all off, the hot new Irish guy that lived across the hall was standing not five feet away in nothing but a pair of skin-tight boxers and was in _no way_ helping the situation.

As the manager was storming toward Mark in his robe, the new guy decided it was a good idea to take a sudden interest in Mark's distress and hopped over to witness the verbal lashing he was having handed to him.

As everyone lumbered back into their apartments and the manager stormed away, the guy burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.

Great.  The first time he gets to speak to the new guy other than an awkward "I got your mail by mistake" exchange in the hallway, he was in pink mustache pajamas and he was laughing at him.  

The whole planet could just _eat his **entire ass** right now._

After catching his breath, the new guy wiped the tears from his eyes and asked Mark between huffs, "What were you trying to do?"

"....make pancakes."

The new person flew into another fit of laughter and Mark sighed at his misfortune and went to make his way back inside when he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back, "Wait, wait.  I'm sorry for laughing at you.  It's just-" the guy slaps a hand over his mouth to try to contain his giggles and Mark couldn't help but start laughing alongside him and within minutes they were both clutching their stomachs and leaning against the side of the building to hold themselves up.

When the guy finally shook off his uncontrollable snorting, he stood up, only wobbling a little and held out a hand for Mark to shake.  "I should introduce myself, my name's Jack.  Well, Sean, but most people call me Jack."

Mark's heart fluttered a bit at Jack's wide smile and twinkling eyes and as he moved to shake his hand, he noticed that Jack's hands were rough but warm against his.  "I'm Mark.  Master chef, obviously."

As Jack chuckled he brought a hand up to absentmindedly scratch at his tummy, right over his happy trail.  At that moment, Mark remembered that they were half naked and Mark's brain just kind of:

_**SIR? Sir.  I'm going to have to ask you to please not.  Stop that.  Stop.  Sir?  Stop it.** _

Mark brought a hand up to his own face to try to hide what he could of his blush, but Jack had already taken notice of where Mark's eyes were traveling and smirked, clearing his throat.

Brown eyes snapped to blue and scarlet coated Mark's cheeks.

The smirk widened, "You know," Jack began, "If you needed someone to help you cook, I'm right across the hall."

Mark nodded a little too enthusiastically and made himself lightheaded, "I may just take you up on the offer."

"Or Maybe," Jack interjected, "you could come over tomorrow around six and allow me to cook for you."

Mark was startled by the suggestion but jumped at the opportunity to know the insanely hot Irishman before him.  He nodded and smiled shyly, "I'm sure the rest of the tenants will be grateful."  

Jack smiled and leaned forward to peck Mark on the cheek and holy shit:

**_Sir, I thought I asked you to calm your fucking tits.  Stop. It.  No.  Bad._ **

Spinning on his heel, Jack called a goodbye to Mark over his bare shoulder and he waltzed inside, leaving a stunned and speechless mark in nothing but his pajamas on the sidewalk.  


End file.
